The Piper's Legacy
by Freida Right
Summary: A continuation of "The Pied Piper." Told through the eyes of the young piper, Kaliss-a Gypsy child with the wisdom of Palis-as she wanders the world on the change of the wind, and attempts to undo the curse on her kind. Told in verse. Could it be worse?
1. Prologue

I had never actually read the poem about the Pied Piper of Hamlin. Terrifying stuff, that. Fairy Tale Theater did a really awesome take on the story back in the late 80's-early 90's, and stars Eric Idle as the narrator AND the Piper-it's one of the best roles he has ever played, honest. THe entire thing is performed in verse, say for the very beginning and end, and has some extra scenes that were deleted from the poem, so to speak.

This is a bit of an epic poem, probably only a few chaters in length, about how the legend of the Pied Piper continues into modern day. It is also strictly in verse, told through the perspective of today's wandering piper.

And, of course, I can never start a good story without a prologue, so...

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_Prologue_

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You'll recall the tale of the Piper, Pied,

And how the Mayor and Comp'ny lied;

so, in a rage, the Piper took

the children of Hamlin to a hillside nook,

and stole them away to another place,

and, here, all vanished without a trace.

His song promised them paradise, magic and wonder.

But, when they arrived, their hearts burst asunder:

There wasn't a magic, only a curse

From which no death on the Earth could be worse.

They were doom-ed to follow the Piper's own trail,

And wander the Earth, to roam without fail.

They wore his own colors, and learned of his trade,

And caused nothing but disquiet wherever they staid.

They picked up the pipe, and the tambor and lyre,

And their girls learned to dance through the night 'round the fire.

They traveled in wagons, without any home.

Their kind was called Gypsy, and left mostly alone.

And so years dragged on. But the Piper grew old,

And desired to find an apprentice, I'm told.

The charm of the pipe could not die in his hands,

And had to be taken to distant new lands.

So now it was time to train pipers anew.

And, since he'd no son, some Gypsy would do.

For, surely, no child of a race would play better

Than a child of the race that hadn't a fetter.

Who other could travel and wander alone,

And never be burdened by mem'ries of home?

So the age-ed Pied Piper, near the end of his days,

Set to finding the One who could take up his ways.

For reasons unclear, he chose a small boy

seen playing outside with a small wooden toy.

The child was young, having but seven years,

But surprisingly brave, having very few fears.

There, the Piper decided that this was the One,

And informed the child's parents, "I am taking your son."

"He shall be taken cared of," The Piper assured,

not caring a dime what the parents preferred.

"He could never be safer, plying my trade—

he need never fear danger with such charms at his aid.

He shall travel the world and see many great sights,

And correct many wrongs, and make many rights."

But the parents recalled him, from Hamlin, abroad,

And recalled he was not quite the trustworthy sort.

Mum and father refused, crying out with alarm,

"The things that you do bring us nothing but harm!

You dragged us form home, cursed to wander the wild.

Take whatever you want—but do not take our child!"

But he did not care, and grabbed the child fast,

And both vanished away in a strange cloud of dust.

It was like the old player never had died,

For in towns, a strange man with a pipe could be spied

Ridding the people of mole and of viper.

And so Sascha the boy became the Pied Piper.

And so, it continued 'till he reached his own age.

And stopped to find some other child for the stage.

This is the way that I understand it,

The way that the Pipers of old came to hand it

From person to person they trained in their way,

And, thus, is the tale in _my_ mouth, here today.


	2. I: Kaliss

I: Kaliss

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My name is Kaliss, an orphan—I think—

Supposedly left on a cliff-side brink

By a mother and father who didn't want me,

who left to die where they could not see.

And who should come 'round and found where I'd been?

The Piper who raised me. His name's Etienne.

I must have been tiny, for I just can't recall

If the tale he has told me is true at all.

Our line has a history of being quite false;

Our teachers will lie without any remorse.

And so we grow up and repeat what we've seen,

And become nothing more than what we always have been.

Still, Etienne's raised me and taught me quite well.

When I pipe for our living, I see his pride swell.

My teacher grows old, he can see this is true.

Without me around, I don't know what he'd do.

Shrivel up, fall apart and die, I suppose,

For the young help their elders. That's just how it goes.

I can't help but love him, for how close we have grown;

And he _is_ the only father I've known.

He sees me fed and makes me strong,

And teaches me the Piper's song

That snares the mind and steals the breath

And may well lead you to your death.

It's heady stuff, the things I learn,

And not just for money, which I do earn.

I work hard and earn my keep,

But, nights of late, I cannot sleep.

My mind's too full of other things,

Too heavy for sleep's downy wings.

I think of where I came from, and

I think of dearest Etienne.

Did he just find me? Did he not?

I wonder about this a lot.

I wish to believe him—true, I do!

But something tells me it's just not true.

I think of family, far away,

And if they're at all alive today.

And, if they are, can I get back?

Or would it just give them a heart attack?

Or am I just doomed to pipe forever?

It's the only life I can ever remember.

Twasn't always like this—no, not at all.

I first picked up the pipe when I was small.

For real. Master's pipe was just sitting there,

So I just picked it up, and at once I was snared.

Etienne was impressed, and said it was a good sign,

That I was a natural, and the pipe would be mine.

At the time, I was glad. "Father" said this was good.

So I practiced all day and all night, like I should.

My fingers grew light, and my lungs grew quite strong

So my breath lasts forever, and I hone-ed my song.

But I made my own songs. Master said I wasn't ready

To learn the Pied Piper's Song. I had to grow. Steady.

We traveled the world, and saw many a sight.

In my child's eye, the world was so big and so bright.

But at times, we could come to some place with a plague

Of some vermin or monster, which no one could save.

And whenever this happened—just how, I don't know—

Etienne always knew it, and knew just where to go.

I learned how he did it, this trick of our trade,

How he went to the mayors, and a bargain was made.

Always, there was money as part of the deal,

But only enough so we'd both have a meal;

He'd never ask more than he knew we would need.

Then, paid, he'd perform his dark deed.

He would stand very still, raise the pipe to his lips,

Play three flowing notes like the sailing of ships

That carry you off so you can't even think,

And you often don't notice it when the ships sink.

When I was much younger, it worked on me, too;

But I learned how to watch, so I'd know what to do.

The amazing thing was that the song was the same,

But it called to each creature by its own name

And promised whatever its fool heart desired,

From something to munch or something admired,

And filled up its heart with longing and glee,

And caused it to follow Etienne—eventually me.

But, of course, the song was a lie—

There was no such happy place. So, by and by,

Etienne led it forth to fire or flood,

And the poor happy creature kept up best it could,

Only to be consumed by the trap he had laid.

And this was how our work was made.

The cities are different from those long ago,

With blinking street lights and buildings that grow,

Shopping plazas and cars on the street,

And the sidewalk's the only safe place for your feet.

We sleep in hotels, where there's food in the morn;

But when we've had our fill, we have to move on.

We Pipers change too, and dress for the times,

Though our fashion is always a little behind:

Etienne wears a business suit with lapels like wings,

And he's sewn on more pockets to carry his things.

His brown shoes are leather, vintage and dated.

Some days, it is marveled; others, it's hated.

For myself, I wear jeans with a bellbottom flair,

With daisies and dandelions strung through my hair.

I wear a loose tunic with a belt 'round my waist,

And in my brown sandals, I never lose haste.

I keep a pack on my shoulder and a scarf 'round my head—

But all in our colors of yellow and red.

But, despite our odd dress, wherever we've stayed,

We've had to get rid of some annoying plague:

Like this place near Chicago, where we took the stray dogs.

And this place in Kentucky, where we saved all the hogs

By saving the corn by downing the mice.

And more than just once, we've even stopped lice!

Etienne is _so_ good that—in no uncertain terms—

He can make the song work on the tiniest germs.

He stopped the flu epidemic when it came to Las Vegas,

And ended a yam blight somewhere in Barbados.

He said it was too much, and would not show me how

He was able to do this. And I still don't know how.

He was usually good, but sometimes we'd find

Some monster or cheapskate who'd change his mind.

This one in LA offered a very large sum

If we'd work our magic and oust his gay son

And all his gay friends. But Etienne was disgusted,

So we retreated to our base, and the matter was discuss-ed.

I voted to leave and not look back;

A weight like that was something I'd rather lack.

But Etienne had a more sinister plan—

The kind that only the Pied Piper can.

He went out to find our employer's son,

And tell him what his father had done.

The son was outraged, and wanted revenge;

So Etienne helped him to meet this end

By calling the son's friends together at once

To decide what kind of justice to dispense.

I had wanted to see, but I was much too young

And Etienne wouldn't let me know what plan was spun.

He's done some grim things, and I've watched with pride;

But there's one simple truth that he keeps inside:

To never take children is his one provision,

And that of all Pipers since our terrible division.

And so it is mine, since I've been on my own,

And has remained such as I have grown.

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If there are any glitches in POV, let me know. They way that she tells the story is weird; she toggles between past, present, and future a lot. It will be more solid starting next chapter, cuz she'll actually be doing stuff.


End file.
